The Case
by JayceV
Summary: "Jason Todd," the plaque read. Three brothers try to understand the significance behind a glass-encased uniform.


Tim was all too familiar with the case that held Jason's old suit. Over the past years of training under Batman, he had memorized every last detail of the red and green fabric, or as Jason liked to call it—traffic light chic. Tim had to agree the colors were atrocious and made it impossible to blend in, but he guessed that was the point.

He spent years wondering about the former Robin, an understood taboo in Wayne Manor. Tim referenced video after video of the old Batman and Robin duo. He forced himself to train in front that case as a reminder as to why he was here. Tim saw Jason's memorial as a standard, someone to live up to. Batman needed Robin and vice versa. Failure wasn't an option when it came to the Caped Crusader. Robin was supposed to be the light in Batman's darkness, a reason to be better. Tim couldn't afford to let Bruce down. Letting Bruce down meant Gotham would play victim to his unbridled rage.

But Tim always had his doubts about taking up the mantle. After all, he wasn't like Dick or Jason. He wasn't a professional acrobat or survivor of the streets. Tim Drake was just a run-of-the-mill nerd. Sure, he had the strategics down when it came to being a detective, but crime-fighting? The very idea sounded insane.

And part of Tim always knew no matter how hard he trained, he'd never be Jason Todd. Being a detective, Tim never missed the way Bruce's gaze flickered to Jason's old uniform, even if it was for a split second. On the off occasion Tim stepped out of line, Bruce nearly slipped up by calling him _Jason_. Tim knew that whenever he wore the domino mask, Bruce never truly saw Tim Drake. No, he always saw the boy who couldn't be saved.

Before taking up the mantle, Tim hadn't realized he was not only replacing a sidekick, but a son. _And trust me. Trying to live up to his son was ten times worse than living up to Robin._

At the dinner table, Bruce would attempt to make conversation, but somehow fell short. He tried to make small talk about Gotham sports teams and Jane Austen novels. Both were things Tim had no knowledge of, but made no effort to correct him. It was as if Bruce was trying to force Tim into the hole Jason had left behind, but despite all his efforts, Tim just wouldn't fit.

And it wasn't only Bruce. Tim had been staying at the manor for a good three months when something... odd happened.

"Ah, Master Drake. I see you've inherited Master Bruce's... nocturnal sleeping habits. I suggest you finish breakfast quickly unless you want to be late for school," Alfred chastised.

Tim moved to sit, but stopped at the strange sight. In place of his usual eggs and toast was a bowl of cereal filled with chocolate milk and a few pieces of bacon on the side. Instead of Alfred's special tea, a glass of orange juice had been prepared. "Uh, Alfred? Did we run out of eggs?"

Alfred lifted an eyebrow. "Of course not. Is something wro-"

For a second, Tim was sure that Alfred looked almost... shaken. However, the butler's curious expression passed as quickly as it came. He shook his head and said," Apologies, Master Drake. I'm not sure what came over me."

It wasn't until years later, when Jason stopped by the manor for breakfast, would Tim realize Alfred had prepared Jason's favorite childhood meal on accident.

Despite all of Tim's efforts, he struggled to fill the void Jason left behind. But he never stopped trying. He was only inspired to train harder until he was worthy enough to be Robin.

Even still, no matter how hard he stared at his reflection in the glass case, Tim Drake could never be Jason's replacement.

* * *

What was so special about that damn case?

Of course, years ago, it had been appropriate to remember someone who died in the line of duty. But now? Todd was alive. The suit was nothing more than another surface for Pennyworth to clean. Surely, the case should've held something of greater importance; perhaps, a relic symbolizing the best Robin, the _true_ son of the Bat. Once, Damian asked his father why he bothered keeping up the charade. After all, Todd didn't even live at the mansion anymore. Bruce gave an answer that Damian had not wanted to hear.

"Because I never want to forget what happened that day, Damian," said Bruce. His father kept a calm and passive expression, but his eyes betrayed him. Behind those eyes were pain and disappointment. Weaknesses.

"But Father, Todd has done nothing worthy of earning such attention. He doesn't even follow the code. You said we aren't killers," said Damian. How twisted was that? From the moment Damian arrived, Bruce forced him to drop his assassin training and fight like a weakling. But Todd was allowed to go off on killing sprees throughout Gotham and still be welcomed with open arms. Sure, Grayson had convinced Damian that killing was no longer necessary as a vigilante, but that did not make it any less unjust.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, we have a complicated situation with Jason, and I don't necessarily approve of his... methods, but he is still family. And that case isn't just a memorial, it's a reminder. I can never forget the mistakes I made that day. Not again."

Damian huffed. It was not fair that death suddenly excused Todd of all his crimes. Such sentimentality was the only reason the Red Hood was not behind bars right now. But Damian sensed the conversation was over—something Grayson had taught him—and merely rolled his eyes. "Tt."

No, that had not been what Damian wanted to hear at all.

Stupid Todd. Even when he was not around he still remained the thorn in Robin's side.

It didn't matter anyway. Damian would prove to Bruce that he was superior to all his predecessors. Then he'd receive his own case in the cave—probably double the size of Todd's. Because he was Damian Wayne, Son of the Bat, and no one would take that away—least of all a low-life street urchin who wasn't even skilled enough to save his own skin. He would show them all.

But for now, he'd have to tolerate Todd's ever so beloved memorial.

* * *

Jason hated that fucking memorial.

He glared at the old Robin suit. It was a reminder of everything he used to be. What he was _supposed_ to be. The old bat just couldn't let it go, could he?

_Honoring the dead my ass._

No, Bruce had warped Jason's death into a sadistic sob story. Watch out, kids! Fall out of line and you'll end up six feet under just like him. Jason was nothing more than a cautionary tale to Batman's soldiers. Oops, sorry not soldiers, _Robins_. That was what he was calling them, right?

That case was nothing but another expectation that Jason could never meet. Not now, at least. He could imagine Bruce's disappointment. Being told your ward was still alive, only to be met with a complete stranger. No, he was worse than a stranger. Jason was a monster.

He could never be that scrappy kid from the streets who just _loved_ being Robin. The kid who worked alongside his hero at night, and took on school by day. Back when he had a life. But that kid went down with the smoke years ago. Yeah, Jason Todd returned, but Robin? Robin was dead and no amount of pleading or frustration could bring him back. _Trust me, I've tried._

Even if the little guy from Crime Alley survived the explosion, the Pit snuffed him out like a flame and replaced the hole in his heart with rage. And Jason wanted so badly to bring him back. Life would be easier. He could stay home for good. Maybe then Bruce would want him again. Alas, that was not what the universe planned.

Unlike Jason, the world moved on in his absence. He would too, eventually.

Jason absentmindedly touched the white streak in his hair. Speaking of reminders, the dye had come out again. Perhaps, in some twisted way, this was supposed to be symbolic. Well, whoever had that idea must be fucked up.

He made his way to the cave's exit, but spared a glance at the case one last time. Maybe on another Earth that kid from Crime Alley was still out there in that very same suit, completely unaware of what could have been.

Jason sighed.

Unfortunately, on this Earth, he was stuck playing the role he always knew he was destined for, even before his dip in the Pit.

_Batman's Greatest Failure_

Now, wouldn't that look great on a plaque?

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a review**

**Originally, I planned to include Dick in this, but I cut it because I can't really gauge his response to Jason's memorial at the moment. I intended this to be a oneshot, but I think I'll write up a new chapter including Dick, Bruce, and Alfred. Interestingly enough, Tim's blurb was the hardest to write. I guess that might be because I have a harder time slipping into his state of mind. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! If you like Batfam stories, go check out A New Addition to the Family on my profile.**


End file.
